


Snow Days

by Sherlocked_Gallifreyan



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Tumblr Posts, most of these probably shouldn't be taken too seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked_Gallifreyan/pseuds/Sherlocked_Gallifreyan
Summary: Maybe a drunk mock-debate wasn't the best idea they'd ever had. It had started out civil (and sober) enough but devolved rather quickly as one of Foggy's friends stopped by with a case of beer she didn't like and donated it to them. Ranges from pre-series to probably through Defenders. No slash. (has now become a series of short stories based on tumblr posts)





	1. Matt Doesn't Remember Either

A/N: it's been…a really long time since I've written anything and my first time writing anything for Daredevil. I don't own anyone. If there are any formatting issues please let me know. I wrote and uploaded this from my phone. I do have plans for at least one more chapter.

A/N 17 Sept. 2017: originally posted to ffn.net 22 Aug. 2017

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Snowed in and with the power out, they'd dragged their furniture around, Foggy guiding Matt as he moved the heavier dressers, and made the biggest fort they could. The beer in the fridge joined them in the fort. While it didn't make a difference to him, Matt had bought a small battery-powered lantern, which he settled in what felt like the middle of the fort. He heard a series of clicks; Foggy had turned the lantern on. They talked about holiday plans and general gossip.

Foggy clicked his bottle against his front teeth. "What?" Matt asked. In the lantern light he seemed too focused on Foggy.

"I was thinking," Foggy started. "I was thinking maybe there should be lanterns like this throughout campus." Matt tilted his head. He seemed to be considering it.

"Batteries," he said, opening another beer. "The cost of batteries would drive tuition up." A fair point.

"What if we…" Three sharp knocks interrupted Foggy and he dragged himself from the warmth of the fort. The room was freezing with the heat out. "Hey Mandy!"

"This is disgusting," she said, thrusting a case of beer at him. With that she turned on her heel and retreated to her room. Foggy shrugged. Free booze is free booze. He returned to the warmth of the fort with less grace than he would have liked, but between what he'd drank and what he was carrying it was a small miracle he didn't pull a blanket down.

"We got more beer, buddy!" he said. Matt grinned and accepted the can Foggy held out for him. Their debate was forgotten as they tasted the new beer and discussed its merits and flaws, both of them using words they were sure meant something else but not caring.

Neither of them would remember much of the conversation after that. Snippets of drunken discussion, misused words slurred over each other.

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Foggy dragged himself from the blanket fort the next morning, making a futile and totally false promise to never drink again. He made it halfway to the bathroom when he saw the bright pink sheet of paper that had been slipped under their door. Mandy's bubbly writing stared back at him in bold black lines. _I don't know what you were talking about and I don't know if I want to know but you yelled "Now you listen here you fucking cumslut you have been found guilty!" Mandy_

Foggy frowned. He had no memory of saying that or saying much of anything last night. He set the paper on top of the blankets and shook his head. Maybe Matt would remember.

 


	2. Matt Doesn't Remember Either, pt. 2: Lunch

Matt didn’t crawl out of the fort until sometime around noon. Classes were cancelled again due to the threat of more snow, so Foggy had been content to let Matt sleep in. He’d also fallen back asleep himself and only woke up when Matt started throwing clothes at him and telling him to wake up. “That Panera finally opened,” Matt said. “Get dressed.”

“Matt. Matthew. Buddy. It’s freezing out there. It’s below freezing,” Foggy complained as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Matt looked unfairly not hungover. Granted, most of his face was hidden under a scarf and by his glasses, but it was still unfair. Food did, however, sound good. But even better: “The heat there’s gotta still work!” The thought of finally being actually warm spurred Foggy into hastily bundling himself in more layers than he thought he’d ever wear in New York. He pocketed his keys and grabbed Matt by the arm.

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The walk was predictably cold and miserable but blessedly short. It wasn’t snowing for the moment. Their breath fogged in the air and condensed on the lenses of Matt’s glasses. “D’you think that happens to everyone with glasses? Lenses fogging up every time they breath when it’s cold?” Foggy asked. “ ‘cus yours are.”

“Probably?” Matt laughed. He stopped abruptly. “This way.” He pulled Foggy down a slightly narrower sidewalk, informing him that it was a shortcut. Foggy could only assume Matt smelled something he didn’t. They came upon Panera and all its bready goodness not a moment too soon.

Matt’s glasses fogged entirely as they stepped into the warmth of the restaurant. “Sweet, sweet working electricity,” Foggy said as they took their place in line. The line moved quickly; Foggy ordered a grilled cheese, and Matt ordered mac and cheese. They sat at one of the smaller, two-person booths while they waited. A family seated several tables away keep shooting dirty looks at them, and Foggy couldn’t figure out why. They were both wearing pants; neither one of them smelled like alcohol. Maybe the parents had something against blind people? Any further musings were interrupted by the announcement that their food was ready.

Foggy set the tray on their table. Matt grabbed his lunch off the tray with that accuracy that sometimes confused Foggy. Foggy took his own plate off the tray. Instead of putting the mac and cheese directly in his mouth, Matt put it on the bread that came with everything. The family’s staring intensified, and the mother looked straight-up disgusted. While Foggy had never seen anyone eat mac and cheese off a baguette before, he didn’t think it warranted such a reaction. He told Matt the family was staring. He didn’t know what he expected Matt to do but he certainly wasn’t expecting Matt’s response.

Matt twisted in the booth to stare in the general direction of the family. He held up the baguette and brandished it. “I,” he said firmly, “will eat anything on this. Including your child. Stop staring.” Foggy kicked his shin under the table as Matt faced forward again.

“You can’t threaten to eat people’s children!” Foggy stage-whispered. In a normal voice, he added, “It did work, though. They’re not staring at you anymore.”

“Good.” Matt raised what was left of the baguette to Foggy in a salute, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer's ending. Soon my glasses will fog up when I go inside warm buildings.


	3. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Foggy finds a way to cope.

 

A/N 17 Sept. 2017: originally posted to ffn.net 24 Aug. 2017.

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The three weeks since Foggy had learned the truth about Matt and the Devil had easily been the hardest weeks of his life. He'd stopped talking to Matt entirely, did his best to pretend that there was no Matt shaped hole that followed him everywhere. Some nights he'd pull up Matt's name in his phone's contact list, debating whether he should just call Matt or delete the number. Of course, neither happened. The first couple days were a drunken blur; he was certain he would have kept drinking if that hadn't meant going out to get more beer. The subsequent hangover discouraged him from trying that again. He rearranged furniture and cleaned his apartment more thoroughly than he ever had. Moved furniture and cleaned again. Karen stopped by on occasion but she never stayed long. Focusing on work was nearly impossible.

A week and a half into this mess he searched youTube for easy yoga videos. Foggy couldn't get his limbs to coordinate and spent an inordinate amount of time on his ass, watching as the skinny woman on the screen made everything look too easy. Halfway through the video he gave up. He had enough bruises already. He left the laptop on the coffee table but moved back onto the couch.

Phone in hand, he debated calling Matt. His thumb hovered over the 'call' icon. Even if he did call, would Matt answer? Would Matt want to talk to him? Was Matt even still alive? His phone put an end to the debate, the screen going dark as the phone fell asleep. No calling Matt tonight either apparently. Maybe more importantly, did  _Foggy_  want to talk to  _Matt?_  He decided no; no he did not want to talk to Matt. The betrayal of that night surged over him again and he screwed his eyes shut. Opening his eyes, he clicked on the TV, surfing through the channels to find the most inane, thoughtless thing he could. A news segment about blogging caught his attention.

"...blogging may be quite beneficial in helping certain individuals cope with their traumas," the woman was saying. Foggy wasn't sure if what he'd gone through on that night counted as a trauma. If a client came to him with a story like that, he'd consider it a trauma for them. Why should it be any different for him? With more resolve than he'd felt in far too long, he settled his laptop on his lap and opened a Word document. The first few sentences felt forced and unnatural, like he was writing a bad novel. He gave up on sentences and typed as words came to mind. He imagined it didn't make any sense but he was the only one who would ever read this anyway. Mad as he was at Matt, he wouldn't betray him.  _Not like he doesn't deserve it._  The thought was intrusive, malicious. Foggy typed it into the growing list of nonsense. If he got it out of his head maybe he wouldn't act on it. What Matt did was risky and stupid but --

A fit of giggling interrupts that thought. "local dumbasss knew what he was getting himself into and did it anyway"

Foggy thought it summed Matt up quite nicely.

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A/N I have no idea where this is going or what I'm doing anymore when it comes to creative writing. Analytic essays? Yeah. I got that. Got that in spades.


	4. Sometimes You Just Gotta...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...lay face down on the floor

The lights were off when Foggy got back late to their shared apartment, which wasn’t that odd. Most nights Matt remembered to turn the lights on, but sometimes he forgot. Right out of college and without much money to either of their names, Matt and Foggy had decided to share an apartment (and neither one was very keen on the idea of living alone after sharing dorm rooms for so many years). Besides, Matt was probably in his room, doing...doing whatever it was that Matt did when left to his own devices. Foggy turned on the kitchen light and searched the fridge for leftovers. It looked like Matt had eaten the last of the spaghetti which left Foggy wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiith  
  


...leftover oatmeal from yesterday’s breakfast.  _ Awesome.  _ He debated reheating it, but he was hungry and just wanted food. He made a mental note to tell Matt that they needed groceries. Speaking of Matt, where was he? He should be giving Foggy shit for his choice of dinner, Foggy telling him that he’d have a better dinner if a certain someone could have found it in his heart to not eat all the spaghetti. Foggy shrugged. Maybe Matt had gone to bed early or gone for a walk. “Matt’s a capable adult and I’m not going to worry,” Foggy told the oatmeal as he carried it to the couch. “Not going to worry too much,” he clarified. He put the oatmeal down on the side table and tapped the lamp on.  
  


Matt was laying face-down on the floor between the couch and coffee table. “Matt? You okay?” Foggy asked.  
  


“Why do you ask?” Matt’s voice was muffled by the carpet. It didn’t look like he planned on moving any time soon.  
  


“We’ve got a couch and you’re laying on your face on the floor.” Foggy stepped over Matt’s prone form and sat on the sofa.  
  


Matt heaved a massive sigh. “Today,” he said, “ _ sucked. _ ” He was okay, Foggy decided. Tired and probably mad at something that had happened earlier, but okay.  
  


“I second that!” Foggy agreed heartily. “You could have at least saved me like a single noodle,” he grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to upload this chapter to ffn.net but it seems to be shitting itself and keeps including bits of formatting????? like font type and size and align


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